


A Marriage Of The Utmost Inconvenience

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:46:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Molly Hooper had to do was to pretend to be married to Sherlock Holmes for a few months in order to help him finish taking down Moriarty's criminal network. What could possibly go wrong? Plenty, it turned out, including the temporary loss of a friend, the permanent loss of her heart and being held prisoner by a man who wanted revenge on Sherlock for destroying the legacy left to him. But in the end, maybe something good would come out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For **apple_pathways** over at [sherlockmas](http://sherlockmas.livejournal.com).

She scanned the letter the first time she read it. She knew it was Sherlock’s handwriting, she had seen the notes he scribbled on the papers he sometimes brought in with him, and he had left her short notes a few times when he needed her and she wasn’t around. And he had sent her letters since he faked his death, though none of those had had his initials on the return address; she had known they were his letters by the lack of return address. Also, she had no friends in the United States, and no colleagues there who wouldn’t use a return address, so it had to have been from him.

It had been just over three years that he had been gone. Three years she’d been keeping his secret, three years she’d watched his best friend fall apart and then pick himself up again and move on. She hated lying to everyone, but hated lying to John most of all. But she knew it was important, and so she kept the secret. Oh, she knew John would hate her the day Sherlock Holmes returned, safe and alive, and she dreaded that day for that reason. But she also yearned for that day because it meant Sherlock was safe and that in turn meant they were all safe and he could finally come home.

She knew far more about him now than she had before his fake suicide. He sent her rambling letters, delving into his innermost thoughts and, yes, even feelings. And she had a phone number she could call. If he was able he would answer, and she would talk to him. Sometimes it was only a few moments sometimes it was half the night. He opened himself up to her, and if she hadn’t been infatuated before she was now. This Sherlock, the one who treated her as a lifeline…he was a good man. And she eagerly awaited his return.

But that was before the letter in her hands. He had said he was finished, that the complex network of criminals was almost completely dismantled, and he could return home. She’d caught that much on the first read-through as she made her way into her home. She was excited and set out to call the number he had given her to get details when she glanced at the second page. It was that second page that made her nearly drop the phone.

_In order for me to set things right, to come back to this life, I need to have a wife. So I am asking you, Molly, if you will enter into a marriage of convenience with me. After a time we can part ways, but I am desperate and I trust no woman more than you._

She re-read that line twice, then three times. Finally she took the phone and held it in front of her, pulling up the contact. Her hands were shaking as she hit dial and put the phone to her ear. He picked up after two rings and as soon as he said hello she blurted out, “You want to marry me, Sherlock?”

“It’s only a marriage of convenience. Of course, for the ruse to be complete I shall need to reside with you, but I promise I will not do anything that makes your life harder. I need you, Molly.”

She was quiet. “How long do we need to stay married?”

“At least six months. Possibly a year. After that you and I can part ways, get an annulment or a divorce. I swear, if it was not a necessity I wouldn’t ask.”

“Where are you now?” she asked with a sigh.

“I’m in San Diego, in California,” he said. “We can get married here. We’ll have to, because if I try and marry you under my real name in England it won’t work.”

“Yeah, there is that thing where everyone thinks you’re dead,” she said. “I have some vacation time I can take, but it will take about a week to get it sorted out. Can you wait that long?”

“Yes,” he replied, and she could hear relief in his voice. “Once we are married I can return to London and put the last part of this plan into motion. And then we can go our separate ways after the trap is sprung.”

“I’ll do this for you, Sherlock,” she said. “But I have two demands. If I’m to marry you we have to act like it’s a real marriage, and that means I get a ring, and you have to wear one, too. And when we come back, you have to be the one to explain it to everyone.”

“Very well,” he said. “I suppose I should let you handle the rings, since I have no clue as to what your preferences in jewelry are. I can have Mycroft give you some money to cover the cost.”

“Does Mycroft know about all this?” she asked.

“Yes. It was his idea,” he replied. “It was also his suggestion I ask you. He knows we have gotten close. Sometimes, when I can’t get a hold of you I speak to him. I tell him about the things we’ve talked about.”

“Ah,” she said. She saw Mycroft a few times a month, so that they could go over what they knew from Sherlock. He was a decent man, but she found she liked talking to him less than she liked talking to his brother. Whatever plan they had cooked up must be very important for actions this drastic to be taken. “When should I expect the money?”

“Today. Buy wedding bands, and I suppose if he gives you enough money you may get an engagement ring as well. The ruse won’t be complete if you don’t have both. My brother should have my ring size on file somewhere. He has all the other useless information about me, at any rate.”

“Where should I meet you at in San Diego?” she asked, moving to where she kept her pen and paper for taking messages.

“I will meet you at the airport. I will take care of the license and registration. Make reservations for a room with two beds at the Hotel del Coronado in Coronado. If you are to use your vacation time for this, at the very least you should stay somewhere nice. I’ll ask Mycroft to give you extra money for this as well.”

“And should I book a return flight when I get my flight to California?”

“We can make those arrangements while you’re here,” he replied.

“Anything else I need to know?” she asked.

“No, I believe that is all.” He paused. “Thank you, Molly. For everything, not just this. The end is nearly in sight, and I believe everything will be worth it in the end.”

“You had best hope so.” She sighed. “I’ll call you once I have my vacation days sorted and have a flight out there.”

“I’ll await your call.” And with that he hung up. She stared at the phone for a moment. She knew people talked about how she was slightly odd and perpetually single. It was going to be very interesting indeed to leave for her vacation single and come back married. There would be talk, and not just among those she worked with. She thought about calling John, about telling him everything, but she held back. Sherlock needed to explain it all, not her. He needed to sort it out with John. She just hoped she didn’t have to pick up the pieces afterwards.


	2. Chapter 2

She had splurged on the rings. Mycroft had given her a sum of money that had made her eyes widen, telling her she could keep anything left over as a salve for any inconvenience. Since this was probably the only engagement ring she was ever going to get, she bought herself her dream ring: a white gold 1 1/5 carat Princess cut halo engagement ring. The diamond in the center of the ring was flanked by smaller diamonds, and there were diamonds on the band. The wedding bands themselves were also white gold, and she had splurged to have an engraving on hers in Elvish, proving what a giant nerd she was once and for all. They were certainly the most expensive pieces of jewelry she had ever bought in her life, and she hoped when this was all over she could keep them.

She had slipped the engagement ring on after her last shift at the hospital, to get a feel for it. It fit her perfectly, and she had to admit that it looked nice on her finger. It would have been better if a man she loved, or rather _the_ man she loved, had slipped it on himself, but Sherlock didn’t feel that way about her. At least he had told her to get a nice ring; he could have made her get something small and not nearly as breathtaking. She would find a way to thank him and his brother properly later. She had also slipped on the wedding band for herself and had admired how it looked before she took it off again. It fit well, and it too looked as though it belonged on her finger.

Now, however, she was playing with the engagement ring as she waited to get off the plane at Lindbergh Field. It had been a long flight and she had not had much success sleeping during the flight. She had no clue what Sherlock looked like now, had no idea if he’d been taking proper care of himself or not. She was trying to steel her nerves for any sight. Once she was told she could leave she got her carry-on out from the compartment above her and began the slow walk off the plane.

It wasn’t hard to spot him. He looked exactly the same and shockingly different at the same time. He had changed his hair color and cut his hair shorter. It was now a lighter brown and it wasn’t nearly as curly as it had been before. She had to admit while she missed the curls this new look suited him as well. He was dressed in a suit, not quite as impeccable as his old ones but still striking. It was black and as she got closer she could see it had thin grey stripes. The most surprising thing was the look on his face. It was a mixture of anxiety and hope that blossomed into a relieved smile, as if he thought she might not be there and was ever so glad she was. She went up to him and without a word hugged him. After a moment she felt arms slightly awkwardly envelop her in a hug back. “I thought you’d be worse,” she said as she pulled away after a moment.

“I would do no one any good if I wasted away or didn’t take care of myself,” he said, keeping her at arm’s length. “I have gotten better at making sure I don’t get too thin or too raggedy. I wasn’t as good at first, but somewhere around seven months in I began to make it a priority.”

“That’s good,” she said with a smile. She was more glad to see he wasn’t skin and bones than he would ever know. She smiled widely at him. “So, what are your plans now that I’m here?”

“The place where they do the marriages isn’t far away. I already made us an appointment for three hours from now. I thought it would be best if we got it over and done with.” He paused. “I know you don’t travel much, so I thought you might like to do some sightseeing for a bit before we returned home. I probably won’t join you, but we don’t need to go back for at least a week, and I doubt you would enjoy being closeted in a room with me all the time. I will be doing the last minute preparations I need to before we arrive back in London.”

“Ah,” she said with a nod. He was being considerate of the fact that she might want to have a little fun. That was new and different, and she had to admit it was very welcome. If nothing else he had been changed by these last few years. “Maybe you can accompany me on a few things?”

“Perhaps,” he said with a nod.

“All right.” She looked away for a moment, trying to figure out where she could pick up her luggage. It wasn’t much, just two suitcases, but she hadn’t known how long she would be here. “I have luggage to get.”

“Right. We’ll go get it.” He held out a hand for her carry-on and she gave it to him, and they began to walk towards where the luggage pick-up was. They stayed quiet for the most part, and got her luggage with no problems. Then they went outside the airport and he hailed them a cab, telling the driver to go to the Hotel del Coronado. She had sent him the reservations for the room, made them in his name, and told him to get settled before she got there. When they arrived at the grand hotel she took a moment to take it all in before he led them to their room. “Here we are,” he said.

“Which bed is yours?” she asked, wheeling one of her suitcases in.

“The one on the left.” He watched as she took her things to the bed on the right and put her suitcase on her bed. Then she went back for the one he had brought in. “I see you brought a lot.”

“I didn’t know how long I would be here,” she said with a slight shrug. “I probably brought too much, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“That is true,” he said with a nod. He watched her open one suitcase, then another, and begin putting things away. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed everyone, and you’ve been like a lifeline to me.”

“I’m just glad you trusted me with the truth,” she said, continuing what she was doing. He stayed quiet as she finished, and then she turned to him. “Is there enough time to get something to eat before we get married? The food on both flights was horrible.”

His mouth hitched up a bit. “There is. There seems to be an overabundance of restaurants in this city. I’m sure we can find something you’d like.”

“I was thinking authentic Mexican food,” she said as she moved to the door.

“I know just the place, then.” And with that, they left.

\--

After she ate they went to the place where they were going to get married. While she had eaten he had taken a good look at the engagement ring she wore, and she had shown him the wedding bands. He had slipped his on to see if it fit, and he had examined hers closely, asking her what the inscription meant. She told him it said “Linnon am meleth vîn,” which literally meant “I sing for our love,” which was her favorite Elvish phrase. He had nodded and said it was nice.

The ceremony itself was quick. The vows they spoke were typical, nothing special about them, and then they put the rings on each other’s fingers. She had been both dreading and anticipating the kiss that would seal them as man and wife. She had not been kissed since Moriarty on their last date, something she tried not to think about much. When it got time to kiss Sherlock she wondered what it would be like. Would it be chaste? Passionate? Similar to the good-bye kiss she had from Jim? Wildly different?

When his lips finally pressed against hers she kissed him the way she wanted to be kissed, and after a moment of surprise he obliged. Sherlock was actually quite a good kisser, she thought to herself, and the kiss lasted longer than it probably needed to. When they pulled apart he had a slightly bewildered look on his face, and she ended up thanking the justice of the peace and ushering Sherlock out of the room.

When they got outside she realized she was holding his hand. She dropped it and then he seemed to snap out of things. He told her he would show her around the city a bit so that when she was left on her own she wouldn’t get lost. She spent some time listening to him talk about all there was to do, but mostly she stared at the buildings and was lost in her own thoughts. He noticed after a little while and made the suggestion of a walk on the beach before dinner. She accepted, and now they were walking on the sand near their hotel, shoes and socks in their hands.

“We need to talk about what will happen when we get home,” she said after a moment. “I’m assuming you want everyone to know we’re married now.”

He nodded his head. “Yes. In order for the plan to work I need it known to as many people as possible that I have a wife. I told you there might be some danger, but I doubt it will be anything you can’t handle.”

“Have you thought about how you’re going to approach John?” she asked, swinging her arms slightly as they walked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I had hoped you might have some ideas.”

“All I can say is you should do it gently, but you should be the one to do it. He may hit you or faint, but if I tell him it will be even worse.”

“I know. I can already guess the friendship between the two of you will be strained when he learns you knew the truth the whole time.”

“I hated lying to him,” she said quietly. “The first year, he was just a shell of a man. He’s gotten better, now, but…he might hate us both for this.”

“Yes, I know. And I’m sorry I put you in that position, Molly. I know it’s not in your nature to be deceitful.”

She paused for a moment, and then hesitantly reached over for his hand. He grasped hers firmly, and after a few moments she moved her hand so their fingers were linked. He looked at their hands, then her. “You need to get used to being close to me. No one’s going to believe we care about each other if you don’t.”

He nodded slowly. “I hadn’t thought of that.” He took a step closer towards her. “I suppose there will be more kissing.”

“Probably, though I’ll try my best to limit it to your cheek, if that’s more comfortable for you,” she said.

“Physical intimacy doesn’t scare me. I just don’t like it. I suppose I’ll have to get used to it, though.”

“Yeah. But it’s only for a little while. When this is over you won’t need to, unless you find someone and fall in love with them.” She looked over at him. “I’ll do my best to act like I’m infatuated with you when we’re in public. When we’re alone we can put all the distance you want between us.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Have you thought about where you’re going to live? John boxed up all your things at your home and they’re sitting in my basement right now.” Sherlock looked at her, surprised. “It was either I take them or he’d donate them. I figured you would want your belongings when this is all over.”

“I miss my home,” he admitted. “But I’m willing to move into yours if that’s easier.”

“My lease is almost up. It ends in three weeks, actually. If you really want to go to 221B Baker St, I can move there.”

His eyes widened. “That’s more than you need to do, Molly.”

“I want to help. If you’d be more comfortable there, I can call it home for the next few months.” She paused in her walking. “You know we’ll have to share a bed.”

“I can sleep on the floor. I’ve done that quite often these last few years,” he said with a slight shrug.

“Sherlock Holmes, I am not going to allow you to sleep on the floor!” she said, aghast. “I have no problem sharing a bed with you if it’s large enough. I have a queen myself.”

“If you’re sure,” he said. 

“I’m adamant about this,” she replied.

The conversation veered after that, with Sherlock going into more detail about their plan, and then they walked with little conversation, hands still linked. They only paused to watch the sunset, which Molly had to admit was spectacular, and then they headed back. She was tired from the long flight and decided not to have dinner, and so she changed into sleepwear in the bathroom and got ready for bed instead. Nearly the moment her head hit the pillow she was out.

She had no clue what time it was when she woke up to the sound of Sherlock talking in his sleep, though the moonlight was streaming in the window. She wasn’t a light sleeper, not by any means, but this might be something that woke her up if she wasn’t in a deep enough sleep. She was irritated for a moment before she realized Sherlock was having a nightmare. She got out of her bed and went to his, sitting on the edge and placing a hand on his arm. He jolted awake and she jumped in surprise. “Oh!” she shrieked.

“I was having a nightmare,” he mumbled, sitting up slightly. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “How do you usually deal with them?”

“I stay awake the rest of the night,” he said with a slight shrug.

She thought for a moment. “Did your mother ever hold you after you had a nightmare when you were a child?”

He nodded. “She did.”

“Did it help?”

“Yes.”

She looked at him for a moment. “Do you think it would help if I slept next to you? We need to get used to doing that anyway.”

She could see him thinking it over, and then he was moving over. The bed was a full, so there was space for both of them. He rolled over onto his side and she spooned against him, wrapping an arm over his waist. After a moment she felt him put his arm over hers, locking it in place. She waited for his breathing to even out, and then she attempted to go back to sleep. It had been a very long time since she had shared a bed with anybody, she thought to herself as she drifted off to sleep again, and the only thing that would have been nicer was if he was holding her. But she wasn’t about to push her luck. He needed the comfort, and she was going to give it to him.


	3. Chapter 3

They finished out the week in San Diego. Molly spent a lot of it by herself, but that was all right by her. She went to two of the local amusement parks, Sea World and Legoland, and explored some of the cities near San Diego. One of the few times she had enticed Sherlock to come with her was to a Sunset Market in the town of Oceanside. They walked around and looked at the booths, and Sherlock surprised her by buying her a necklace she admired.

She was fiddling with the necklace now as their cab pulled up to 221B Baker Street. John no longer lived there; part of his moving on had been moving out. He was living with his girlfriend, a lovely woman named Mary Morstan. But Molly had made the call to ask him to come back because she had something important to tell him. She’d made the same call to Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, and so she knew that Sherlock’s three closest friends were in there waiting for her.

“Once again, I’m sorry for putting you in the middle,” Sherlock said. Over the last week they had gotten comfortable holding hands and sleeping next to each other, and they held hands as the cab stopped. Sherlock only let go to pay the driver and get out, and he offered her his hand again once she was out. She gripped it tightly and took a deep breath as she opened the door. She stepped in first, squared her shoulders and made her way up to the common room. About a foot away from the door Sherlock squeezed her hand once and then let go, waiting in the shadows.

She entered the room and saw Mrs. Hudson serving tea to John and Lestrade. Both gentlemen looked confused as to why they were called there, and she was about to make it all worse. Mrs. Hudson noticed her first. “Hello, dear.”

“Hello,” she replied, a shaky smile on her face. She waved, and she knew Lestrade had been paying close attention to her left hand because his eyes widened. “I have some news, but I want you all to sit down, all right? And…please don’t hate me when this is all over.”

“Why on earth would we hate you?” John asked, looking even more confused, if that was at all possible.

“Because she’s been lying to you all,” Sherlock said from the doorway. “I’m sorry, Molly. I know you said you would prepare them, but…” He trailed off.

Mrs. Hudson nearly dropped the teapot she had in her hands, Lestrade’s jaw was hanging down and John was as pale as a ghost. “You’re alive,” John said, his voice barely above a whisper. Molly could see him shaking from her position in between him and Sherlock. Then a look of anger crossed his face. “You bloody bastard. Three years. Three years! You’ve been gone three years, and you left me a sodding wreck.”

“John…” Sherlock began.

John was out of the seat in a flash. He got up so quickly he knocked the chair over. And then he was advancing on Sherlock, fist pulled back to slug him across the face, and he would have if Molly hadn’t gone to him and put her hand over his fist. He turned to look at her. “And you knew? The whole time, all those times I came to you a sobbing mess, and you _knew_?”

“John, please,” she said.

He pulled his fist out of her grip. He looked angry, and it appeared as though he was visibly trying to control his anger. “Right now, I don’t want to speak to either of you. I don’t know if I’ll want to speak to either of you ever again, actually. So for right now, leave me alone.”

“As you wish,” Sherlock said with a nod. John went to the coatrack and violently grabbed his coat, pushing past Sherlock to get down the stairs. Sherlock went over to Molly, who looked as though she wanted to start crying. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“I know,” she said just as quietly.

“I’m assuming you had a good reason,” Lestrade said from his chair. She turned away from Sherlock to look at the two who were left. Lestrade had his arms crossed across his chest and Mrs. Hudson looked bewildered in the chair John had been sitting in, which she had picked up off the floor.

“The afternoon on the hospital roof, Moriarty told me he had people ready to kill you all if I didn’t kill myself,” Sherlock said, coming closer to the table. “I’ve spent the last three years dismantling his criminal empire. I have one more player to catch, and then it will be finished.”

“And that required you to wed Molly?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

Sherlock nodded. “It’s instrumental to my plan. But we all must act like it’s a real marriage. This player knows I’ve kept in contact with her. He’s had her under surveillance for some time. The fact that she is now my wife means that she is now more important to me than just a friend. He will come after her, and I will catch him.”

Lestrade looked from Sherlock to Molly. “And you agreed to this plan?”

Molly nodded. “I know all the risks. I’m well aware of how this could play out.”

Lestrade shook his head. “I’m glad you’re alive and well, Sherlock, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t like this idea of you placing Molly’s life in danger.”

“It’s the only way,” he replied.

Lestrade got up and came over to them. After a moment, he clapped a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder as he looked at Molly. “If you both are sure it will work, then good luck. I think you’re definitely going to need it.” He let go of Sherlock’s shoulder and came over to Molly, kissing her cheek. “Congratulations, I suppose.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Does this mean you’re back to solving cases?” Lestrade asked Sherlock, turning back to him.

“After Mycroft begins undoing what Moriarty did to my reputation,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“If I get a challenging case you’ll be the first person I call,” he said with a nod. “If you two will excuse me, I think I’ll go find John and see if I can at least get him to listen to the reason why you did what you did. No guarantee he’ll listen, but I’ll try for you.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said. With that, Lestrade left, and Sherlock went over to Mrs. Hudson. “Mrs. Hudson?”

“That dreadful man was going to have me killed?” she asked, turning to Sherlock.

Sherlock sat down next to her and nodded. “Yes. You and John and Lestrade for sure, and possibly Molly as well.”

“So you did all this to keep us safe?”

“Yes. You all are very important to me.”

Mrs. Hudson reached over and patted his cheek. “Oh, my dear boy,” she said, a tear slipping down her face.

Sherlock smiled slightly. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Mrs. Hudson. I promise you that.”

She got up from the seat slightly and hugged him, and after a moment he hugged her back. Then she pulled away. “Where are you two going to live? John packed your things up and took them out of here before he left. You’ve got nothing.”

“I have all of Sherlock’s things,” Molly said quietly.

“And we were hoping we could stay here,” Sherlock said. “This place…this place is my home. I’ve missed it terribly while I’ve been gone.”

“Yes! Yes, of course you can stay here. I haven’t had the heart to rent out your room to anyone. John’s, either.” She smiled at him and gave him another hug. “I’m so glad you’re home, Sherlock.”

“I’m glad to be home,” he replied, his lips nestled in her hair for a moment.

She pulled away again and looked at Molly. “I suppose you’ll be wanting John’s room?”

“Actually, Sherlock and I will be sharing the same room,” Molly replied.

“But I thought this marriage wasn’t real,” Mrs. Hudson said with a frown.

“It’s not, but we must convince everyone it is,” Sherlock said. “That means we must act as much like a typical married couple as we can, and that means sharing a bedroom.”

“Ah, I understand,” Mrs. Hudson said, nodding. “How soon do the two of you want to move in?”

“We can move in over the next two weeks,” Sherlock said. “I know Molly’s lease is ending, and she’ll need to decide what she wants to keep and what she doesn’t.”

“All right,” Mrs. Hudson said with a nod. “I made all this tea and no one’s had a cup. Perhaps the two of you will stay for tea?”

“Yes, if that’s all right with you,” Sherlock said as he turned to Molly. She nodded. “Yes, we’ll stay and have tea with you.”

“Wonderful,” Mrs. Hudson said. She smiled at Molly. “I believe I’d like to have a look at your rings.” Molly smiled slightly and came over to her, taking the seat on the other side. She placed her left hand on the table and Mrs. Hudson picked it up. “Those are exquisite rings.”

“I was given a lot of money to purchase them,” she said.

“You should have picked something out and proposed properly,” Mrs. Hudson said towards Sherlock, who smiled slightly. “A marriage proposal is something a girl never forgets.”

“It’s just a fake marriage,” Molly said, pulling her hand back as she blushed. “And in all honesty, this is the ring I dreamed of getting for a long time. I hope that when this is all over I’ll be able to keep it.”

“If he doesn’t let you I’ll kick him out,” Mrs. Hudson said, and Molly chuckled slightly at that.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t,” Sherlock said, picking up the cup of tea that had been poured for Lestrade. “I believe it is customary for married couples to keep their rings when they divorce.”

“See? Then you can keep it,” Mrs. Hudson said with a smile towards Molly. “Come on now, we have a lot of catching up to do. Three years is a long time to be away, Sherlock, and I want to know what you did. So start talking.”

Sherlock took a sip of his tea and launched into things that Molly already knew. She tuned out what he was saying as she got lost in her own thoughts. She fervently prayed that John would forgive them both, and she hoped that she wasn’t making a huge mistake that could cost her her heart…or worse, her life.


	4. Chapter 4

Within two weeks Molly and Sherlock had settled into 221B Baker Street. The majority of her furnishings had been put into storage so that when this was over and she was in a place of her own again she didn’t have to buy all new things. Her bed, dresser, vanity and nightstand had been put in the bedroom for both of them to use, though, since all of Sherlock’s furniture had been donated. The one thing Mrs. Hudson had kept was his framed picture of the periodic table, and that was back where it belonged.

Her colleagues at the hospital took the news that she was married with various levels of disbelief. She almost considered having the marriage license framed and hung in her office just so she’d have proof. She took off her rings while she was at work, wearing them on the same chain of the necklace Sherlock had bought her the week they were in San Diego. After a week it seemed to become old news, thanks to a scandal involving the head of payroll and a married doctor.

Mycroft had started to use his resources to convince people that Moriarty had been a fraud and that Sherlock was the genuine article, and Lestrade had called him in to consult on a few cases. There was no publicity this time, nothing to draw attention to Sherlock, except one single post by John, to let his blog followers know that Sherlock was indeed alive and he should be believed. Even if John wasn’t speaking to either her or Sherlock right now, he had at least listened to Lestrade. That gave Molly hope that someday John might be willing to speak to them again.

By the time they had settled in she and Sherlock had developed a routine. She would come home from work and if Sherlock was there they would talk as she made dinner for the both of them. It didn’t necessarily have to be about work; they would talk about other things as well. To keep up the ruse that they were indeed married they had a date twice a week, going out and doing things together, such as dinner at a restaurant or a movie. And then, when the night was over, they would get ready for bed in separate rooms and then go to sleep in the same room. The only nights they slept close together was when Sherlock had a nightmare, which happened a few times a week. Those next mornings they would wake up with their limbs tangled together and if Molly didn’t think about it much she could pretend in those moments that she was in a real marriage.

She knew she had agreed to all this because she wanted everyone to be safe. The last person Sherlock needed to draw out was the most dangerous one: Sebastian Moran, Moriarty’s right hand man. If there could have been anyone to keep the organization together it would have been him, and Sherlock had been eroding the network out from under Moran’s feet. Sherlock knew the man would want revenge for everything, and that was why Molly was being dangled as bait. In her head she knew all of this, but her heart ached every time there was a reminder that this was not real, that in a few months’ time she would be alone again.

Tonight was technically their one month anniversary. Sherlock was not home at the moment, but he had said he would be there soon. She had gone about making dinner for the both of them, though it was strange to do so in silence. So she turned on the radio and danced around a bit as she cooked. She was nearly done when she turned and saw Sherlock standing in the doorway, leaning against it, watching her with a smile on his face. “Don’t do that,” she said, her cheeks turning slightly red.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you that happy since the day at the airport,” he said, pushing away from the doorway and coming in more. “You might have been a bit happier just now, actually.”

“Well, I didn’t expect to have an audience,” she said quietly, going back to the dinner. “The food is almost done.”

“You didn’t need to cook,” he replied. “I was going to take you out to eat.”

“It’s not one of our usual date nights,” she said.

“But it was one month ago that we got married. Supposedly newlyweds celebrate even the littlest anniversaries.”

She shrugged slightly. “It’s fine that we don’t do anything.”

“Still, I wanted to do something for you.” She turned away from the food and took a good look at him, and only then did she see he had a small bag in his hand. He held the bag up for her, and she came over and took it. Inside was a velvet box, long and rectangular, and when she opened it she saw a bracelet inside. It wasn’t covered in gemstones or anything like that, but it was a charm bracelet, empty save one charm of a heart. She looked up at him. “I had seen you looking at it the last time we went for a walk. This was what you had been looking at, right?”

She nodded. “Yes. I used to have a charm bracelet but it broke a few months ago. I had wanted another one.”

“Then I got you something you’d like?” he asked hopefully.

She nodded, a wide smile on her face. “Yes. I like it very much, Sherlock.”

He grinned back a bit. “Good.”

She leaned in and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Thank you very much,” she said as she pulled away.

He looked at her for a moment, then reached up to touch her face. She stilled, not sure what he was planning on doing. Finally he leaned in and kissed her lips softly. They had kissed before, out in public where anyone could see them, but at home if there was any intimacy it was a kiss on the cheek or a warm hug. This was unexpected and very welcome, she thought as she kissed him back. He slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her closer. And then, just when she was getting into it, he pulled away from the kiss. “I don’t know why I did that,” he murmured, still keeping her close.

“It was nice,” she said softly.

“I apologize,” he said, finally letting her go.

“Don’t.” He looked at her. “Please, don’t apologize. It will ruin it. If you think it was a mistake don’t say so.” She felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry, damn it. She didn’t want to show that she had thought maybe it meant more to him than a momentary lapse in judgment. She turned away and took a step away from him. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait,” he said, reaching out and catching her wrist. She stopped but did not look at him. “Do you care about me, Molly? As more than a friend?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I have for a long time, even while you’ve been gone. Even more than before, if that was at all possible.”

“I didn’t realize,” he said. “I think…I’m not sure how I feel. I’ve never put myself in a position like this before, where I’ve had to have a romantic interest in someone. But I’ve realized I feel comfortable with you. I want to treat you well. I want to do things for you that will make you smile. And there’s more to it, more than I can really verbalize.”

“Do you think you might fancy me?” she asked, lifting her head up and looking at him.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “That’s the honest truth. I know I care for you, and I care for you more than the rest of my friends.” He slid his hand down from her wrist, so their palms were pressed together. “Perhaps we can try and actually date?” he asked quietly.

She knew her eyes were wide and she was pretty sure her jaw had dropped. “Are you asking me out, Sherlock? On an honest to God date?”

He nodded slowly, looking at her intently. “Yes. I want to try, with you. If you will be patient with me.”

“All right,” she said with a nod. “The food will keep overnight. Tonight, we go out on a real date, not a pretend one. Okay?”

“Yes,” he said. “Would you like to put the bracelet on?”

She shook her head. “Not until after I add my old charms.” She squeezed his hand once and let it go, taking the bag to their room and setting it next to her jewelry box. Then she grabbed her coat from where she had left it when she came home and slipped it on before going back to the kitchen. She turned off the heat under the food and looked at Sherlock. “I’m ready.”

They walked out of their home together and out onto the sidewalk. He hailed a cab for them and they settled in, with Sherlock giving the name of a very expensive restaurant. They were quiet as the cab drove them to their destination, and quiet as they got out and went inside. It wasn’t until they were seated and had placed their orders that they began to talk to each other. The conversation continued throughout their meal, and Molly found herself enjoying this date much more than their others. It seemed that during a real date Sherlock opened himself up just slightly more, seemed a bit more human. She enjoyed it.

When the meal was over they walked out of the restaurant hand in hand and went walking around. Snow was falling down now, the first snowfall of the winter, and eventually Molly let go of his hand to pull her coat closer around herself. Sherlock took this as a sign that perhaps it was time to end the date and go home, but she didn’t want it to end yet, so she suggested a warm drink at the nearest coffee shop. Sherlock agreed, and they made their way to the one at the corner. She ordered a spiced cider for herself and he got a black coffee. They sat down at a table and talked some more, and stayed even after their drinks were gone. They stayed until the owners showed signs of wanting to close, and when they walked out the snow had stopped falling and there were piles of it all over the place. It was late, and therefore cold, and Sherlock hailed them a cab and they went home.

When they were inside, Sherlock began to help put away the food, and then it was time for bed. Molly found herself to be nervous. They had decided to make a real go at things, try to have a real relationship, and yet part of acting like they were married meant that tonight they wouldn’t separate after their date. She got into bed and curled up on her side. Sherlock got into the bed a few moments later, and he surprised her by pulling her close against him. She hadn’t expected anything to happen; she’d thought they would have a night where they slept on opposite sides of the bed. And as the smile etched itself on her face and she braced his arm with hers, she thought that, perhaps, things might be okay after all.


	5. Chapter 5

It was perhaps a few weeks after they began to look at this marriage as the basis for a real relationship that Christmas approached. A sort of mood overtook Sherlock and Molly knew what it was all about; the last Christmas that he had spent in London had been the one where they’d had the party and he’d gotten the phone and she had to deal with the body he said he knew. And this year was going to be a reminder of all that with the added twist that this year, he and John were still not talking. Molly decided that for Christmas she was going to repair their friendship if it killed her.

She didn’t know where to start, but then something unexpected happened. The week before Christmas she was at work when the door opened to her office. She looked up and saw Lestrade there. “Greg,” she said with a warm smile. “Do I have one of your bodies that you need results for?”

He shook his head. “No. I came to talk to you about John.”

Her smile faltered. “He still isn’t speaking to me,” she said.

“I know. But he wants to.” She looked at him intently. “You and Sherlock both. He thinks he’s blown his chance completely with the both of you.”

“But he hasn’t! Sherlock’s re-read the blog post John made at least once a day. I see this look cross his face where I can just tell he wants to leave a comment but he isn’t sure how John will take it.”

“So Sherlock does want to reconcile,” Lestrade said with a slight sigh of relief. “We need to fix this.”

“Yes, I couldn’t agree more.” She stood up. “How do you propose we do it?”

“John’s girlfriend had the idea of throwing a Christmas party and inviting the both of you to come.”

Molly frowned slightly. “That could blow up in everyone’s faces, if one of the two of them gets upset about it.”

“True,” Lestrade said with a sigh. “Then what would you suggest?”

“The three of us meet in a park. Sherlock and John would both be informed that the other was going to be there, and maybe you could be there as a sort of mediator.”

Lestrade thought about it for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “That could work.”

“Then why don’t we do it for two days from now? I have the day off so I’m available any time.”

“I’ll go talk to John. Do you think Sherlock will go for this?”

She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Lestrade looked at her intently. “You know, there are times I forget the two of you are only pretending to be married. He’s changed a lot, and I suspect not all of it was from the three years pretending to be dead.”

“We’re trying to make a real go of things now,” she said, blushing slightly.

“Really? Good for the two of you,” he said with a grin. “I think you’ll do him a world of good, Molly.”

“I hope so,” she replied.

“Well, I’ll go talk to John. You talk to Sherlock, and call me with a time and place when you’ve gotten him to agree.”

“All right,” she said with a nod. He left then, and she spent the rest of her time not working trying to figure out how to bring this up to Sherlock. She decided the best method would be to be direct and tell him it was what was best for everyone. By the time she had gotten home she found him there, staring at his computer screen. When she got behind him she saw it was John’s newest blog post. “Did he have anything interesting to say?” she asked.

“He said he’s being asked to forgive someone,” he replied.

 _So,_ she thought to herself. _Greg already talked to him._ She took a deep breath and sat on the arm of the chair next to Sherlock. “Greg and I talked today. Both of us want the two of you to reconcile.”

“Does John really want that?” Sherlock asked, turning to look at her.

She nodded. “Yes. And you need it, Sherlock. Do you remember what I said to you all those years ago, that you look sad when he can’t see you? I know you do that with me, too. I’ll look at you and this look will cross your face and I know you miss him, that you’d like his opinion or you want to share something with him.” She put a hand on his arm. “So talk to him. Put all of this behind you and start fresh.”

He looked at her for a moment, then moved his arm. She lifted her hand up but then he took his hand in hers, running his thumb over her knuckles. “Will you be there?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I need to make my peace with him as well. After all, I lied to him for three years as well, except I had to see what your fake death did to him.”

“I don’t think I can ever apologize enough for that.”

“It’s all right. It was worth it. Once this whole matter is taken care of with your trap, it will all be finished and we’ll be just a little bit safer.” She grinned at him slightly. “I’ll tell Greg to have him meet us at the park nearby at noon in two days, all right?”

Sherlock nodded. “Very well.”

\--

Two days later they were waiting at the park nearby 221B Baker Street. It was cold, and Molly had her coat pulled around her. Sherlock stood on one side of her and Greg on the other. It was nearly noon, and she could see the look on Sherlock’s face, like he wasn’t sure John would show up. Molly put a hand on his arm and he looked at her. “He’ll be here,” she said quietly, giving him a smile.

“He’s here,” Lestrade said, nodding to the figure that was heading their way. John wasn’t alone, either. Molly recognized the other woman as his girlfriend Mary. When they got closer Lestrade cleared his throat. “We’re pretty sure the three of you have some things to say to each other,” he said, looking first to John and then to Sherlock and Molly.

“I do,” Sherlock began, but John held up a hand and he frowned. “What?”

“You don’t need to explain or apologize,” John said. “You did it to keep us safe. Greg explained it all to me. It’s not in your nature to do either of those things, so I’m not expecting it.”

“Well, it’s in my nature _now_ , so let me do it,” Sherlock said. John blinked. “Just as you changed these last three years, John, I did too. I’ve had to take a good hard look at my life and the choices I’ve made and the way I’ve acted. I’ve started to make it a point to make changes to my personality. One of the things I’ve decided to do is apologize when I’m wrong, or I’ve hurt someone. I hurt you, John, and I’m sorry.”

John looked at him. “Apology accepted, mate.”

Sherlock grinned slightly. “And before she makes her own apology, it was I who told Molly to keep the secret. I know it was hard for her to do, but she only did it because I asked.” He reached over for her hand and held it tightly.

She squeezed it once. “I didn’t want to hurt you or make things worse, honestly,” she said to John. “But Sherlock didn’t know if they’d stopped watching all of us. He wanted to make sure everyone was safe. He figured since no sniper had been set on me that day it was safe to stay in contact with me, but he didn’t know what other plans Moriarty had set in place before he went to the roof. So I’m sorry as well.”

“I realized that,” John said, going over and giving her a hug. She let go of Sherlock’s hand and hugged him back, smile on her face. When he pulled away he looked at the two of them. “I guess I should offer belated congratulations on your wedding,” he said.

“Thank you,” Sherlock said with a nod. “You do know, however…”

“I know,” John said with a nod. “Greg told me. He also said you two actually act like you’re married so he can’t even tell anymore. I think that’s a good thing.” Then he looked over at Mary. “Sherlock, I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is my girlfriend, Mary Morstan.”

She held out her hand, and Sherlock shook it. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“You know, it’s cold out here and it looks as though it will start snowing at any moment,” Mary said. “Why don’t all of us go someplace warm and catch up?”

“We could go to our home,” Molly suggested, looking at Sherlock, who nodded. “We can order some food and eat lunch and sit and talk.”

“I like that idea,” John said with a grin.

“I do too,” Mary replied.

“I don’t have anything to do for another hour or so,” Lestrade replied. “I’m game.”

“Excellent!” Molly said with a wide smile. “Come on, let’s go get out of this cold.” She reached over for Sherlock’s hand and the two of them led the way, John and Sherlock engaging in an easy conversation with occasional commentary from the others. Molly knew, deep down, that no matter what else happened things would be fine between all of them again, and she was glad for it.


	6. Chapter 6

The months passed and life went on. Their relationship grew more serious, and soon those that knew it wasn’t a real marriage began to forget and treated the two of them as if they were actually married. And they began to treat each other as though they really were husband and wife, in most ways. There was still one thing they had not done, despite sharing a bed together every night. And Molly found herself really wanting to take that next step the more her relationship with Sherlock deepened.

Mycroft had done a very good job of reversing much of the public opinion brought about by Moriarty’s slander and lies, but not completely. Some still believed Sherlock to be nothing but a fraud. But Lestrade had managed to convince others in Scotland Yard, and so Sherlock was slowly rebuilding his consulting detective business. John had offered to help a bit, though not as much as before. After all, he had a life now that still didn’t involve Sherlock much. Sherlock understood, and was happy to take his friend however he could get him. So things were good, but Molly was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

They were approaching the fifth month of them attempting to have a real relationship when the trap Sherlock had set was suddenly sprung. Molly had been on her way home when she felt a hand clamp over her nose and mouth, just inches from the door at 221B Baker St, and then everything was dark. When she came too she was sitting in a chair, wrists bound to the arms of the chair and ankles bound to the legs. She saw a blonde man in front of her, and he had a gun in his lap. It had been taken apart and he was cleaning it. Without needing to be told a word, she knew this was Sebastian Moran in front of her.

He noticed after a moment that her eyes were open. “You’re awake. Usually people are out longer when I use chloroform.” He shrugged slightly. “I suppose I don’t need to introduce myself. I’m sure your husband has told you all about me.”

“You’re Moran,” she said quietly.

“You can call me Sebastian, if you’d like,” he said, turning his attention back to the gun. “It’s more civil that way and you, Molly Hooper, like civility.” He paused. “I suppose you should be Molly Holmes, but you never got around to changing your last name. Wonder why that is.”

“I’d have to re-submit an awful lot of paperwork,” she said, hoping he didn’t press.

“True. I can imagine all the things a doctor would need to go through, even if you’re just a pathologist.” He began cleaning the gun again, picking up a small scrub brush and taking it to the barrel of the gun. “Jim liked you. He thought you were interesting. When he’d set up the snipers to kill all of Holmes’s friends he made me promise not to set one on you. Guess you got to him. I hadn’t thought that was possible.”

“But I broke up with him,” she said, slightly surprised.

“Three dates were enough to change his opinion of you,” Sebastian said with a slight shrug, continuing to work on the gun. “If Sherlock hadn’t have jumped you’d have been spared. You still will be, though I’m afraid you’ll be a widow by night’s end.” He looked at her then. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Why do you want my husband dead?” she asked.

“That empire…Jim had left it to me. I’m sure your husband has told you I’m a master assassin, the best of the best. But I’m more than that. I was Jim’s right hand man, so to speak. I was the heir apparent. I didn’t know Jim was actually going to kill himself on that roof. I should have, but I guess I was blind to certain aspects of his personality. But it doesn’t matter. He left it to me and your husband took it apart. He thinks I mean to kill you, but it’s him I’m after. If I can’t do what I was supposed to, what Jim meant for me to do, then it’s not exactly fair that your husband gets to keep on living.”

After that he focused on cleaning his gun. She could see the twisted sort of logic going on in his head. This was an eye for an eye. Moriarty had meant much more to Sebastian than Sherlock probably realized. It was Sherlock who had taken Moriarty away, and then he had taken away the legacy he had left behind. She could see why Sebastian wanted revenge. She watched as he finished cleaning the gun, and then reassembled it. He examined it, then stood and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a handful of bullets, and carefully loaded each bullet into the gun.

“So now what?” she asked, watching as he spun the chamber.

“Now, we wait. Your husband should be here momentarily.” He moved over to her. “You know, I am sorry about all this. You seem to be a nice person. You don’t deserve to have bad things happen to you.”

She nodded slightly. “Thank you, I suppose.”

“I’ll leave you alone then. After I’ve taken care of your husband I’ll leave a message for DI Lestrade to come get you.” He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a long strip of cloth. With that he gagged her. “Don’t want you screaming for help.”

She watched him turn and leave after it had been tied, and when the lights in the room plunged off she had to fight back panic. She couldn’t tell how long it had been before she heard a scuffle in another room. She tried to move, tried to cry out, but she wasn’t able to. And then there was a bang, then a second bang immediately after and then a third a few moments after that, and then the sounds of the scuffle stopped. She tried to scream again, to make any noise she could, and all she managed to do was topple the chair backwards. She felt her head hit the hard floor and for a moment saw stars.

That must have been enough because the lights flooded on moments later and then she could see Sherlock standing over her, clutching his arm. Relief flooded through her as he got closer. The first thing he did was untie the bonds holding her feet in place, then her arms, and she rolled over slightly and took off the gag on her mouth. “I was worried,” she said, trying not to cry tears of joy. “I was worried he’d killed you.”

“He’s good, but I’m better,” Sherlock replied. He knelt down and used his good arm to touch her face gently.

“He shot you,” she said as her eyes went to the wound.

“It’s just my shoulder,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m fine.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against him, careful not to put too much weight on his injured shoulder. “I thought he was going to kill you.” She moved and buried her face in the crook of his other shoulder and finally just sobbed. She could handle a lot of stressful things, but this was too much.

“He’s dead now,” he said, putting his good arm around her. “He’s dead now and you’re safe.”

They were in that position when Lestrade arrived. Even though Sherlock needed to get to a hospital he wouldn’t leave until Molly was checked over first, and then he demanded she be allowed in the ambulance with him when he finally agreed to go. The paramedics said no at first until Sherlock said that she was his wife and he wasn’t going anywhere without her. It seemed to be the magic word because then they were bundled off and taken to the nearest hospital.

It was hours later when they returned home. Molly had called Mrs. Hudson and told the older woman not to wait up for them, so they came home to a quiet house. Molly went to the cupboard over the refrigerator and pulled down the bottle of whiskey John had said was there. Without a word she poured a glass for herself and a glass for Sherlock, and they drank them in silence. It wasn’t until she had poured their second glasses that he spoke. “I suppose it’s done, now,” he said, tilting the glass so that the amber liquid ran up the side before he took a drink.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “The trap got sprung and Sebastian is dead.” She took a sip of her own drink, a gloomy mood settling over her. “I suppose we can stop pretending to be married now.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?” She had just been about to finish the glass when she stopped and looked at him. “What if I want to remain married to you?”

“We’re still dating, Sherlock,” she said, slightly shocked. “Do you really want to be attached to me for the rest of your life? Or mine? Do you think you can stand to have me around for that long?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “I suppose the real question is whether you want to have your life interrupted any more than it has been. Whether you think I would be a good husband and not just a good boyfriend.”

She looked down at her glass, tilting the glass in a circle and watching the liquid swirl around. “You’ve done a good enough job so far,” she said. “Everything you went through in those three years, it’s changed you. You’ve come back a better man.”

“Then give me a chance,” he replied. He set his glass down and went over to her, taking the glass out of her hands. Then he grasped her left hand in his and tugged off her rings. She began to protest but then he gave her a look she hadn't seen cross his face before and she stopped. He got down on one knee and then slipped the engagement ring back on. “I know I didn’t pick out this ring, and I never gave you a proper proposal. But I want to continue to be your husband, Molly.” He slipped the wedding band back on after that. “Please allow me the chance.”

She looked at him and nodded, a smile on her face. “All right.”

He grinned back, probably the widest smile she’d seen cross his face yet, and then he stood again. He used his good arm to pull her close, and when they kissed this time it was as though there was more to it than there normally was. It meant more; it meant a new beginning and a second chance and a heartfelt promise all rolled into one. And there was something else in this kiss, too. There was a need that hadn’t been present before. She wasn’t sure he had felt it until he began backing them towards their room, and then she knew he felt it too.

She ended up doing the maneuvering, getting them almost to their room without breaking the kiss. But she misjudged and Sherlock slammed against the door before she had a chance to twist the knob to open it. His response was to pull her as close as he could and deepen the kiss. The only thing keeping her from escalating things right there was the fact that Mrs. Hudson was home and she might come down towards them at any point. She reached behind him for the knob and they stumbled into the darkened room. She kicked the door shut behind them and did it with a bit more force than intended, as it closed with a slam.

They had shared the room long enough that they both knew where everything was, and as soon as they were three steps in Sherlock turned them around so that when they hit the bed ten steps later it was the backs of her knees that hit it. She faltered a bit but he held her close and kept her upright. Only then did she pull away to catch her breath. “You want this to go farther, right?” she asked, her voice sounding more breathless than normal.

“Yes,” he said. There was moonlight streaming into the room and she could see him nod.

“But you’re injured,” she said. She didn’t want to stop but she wanted to be sure he didn’t end up feeling worse at the end of it.

“I can ignore the pain,” he said. 

“All right,” she said. He had been given a T-shirt to wear once they took the bloodied and ruined shirt and suit jacket he had been wearing off to get the bullet out of his shoulder, and she reached for the bottom hem and pulled it up. She saw him wince slightly as he lifted his arms up so she could pull it off but he didn’t make a sound. She ran her fingers over the bandage on his shoulder slightly, then skimmed them across his shoulders. He retaliated by reached for the buttons on her shirt and slowly undoing them. She looked down and saw his hands were shaking, and he was having trouble undoing them. “Let me,” she said, putting her hands over his.

He nodded and took a step back, and she finished unbuttoning her shirt. She let it hang open a moment when she was finished, and he stepped back to her and pushed it off her shoulders, letting his hands linger on her skin. She pulled out of the shirt and let it fall to the floor as he reached around her to undo her bra. “I feel like a nervous schoolboy,” he admitted.

“Have you done this before?” she asked.

“A few times. Mycroft thinks I am a virgin but he is mistaken. But I will admit it has been a very long time.” He finally managed to get it undone, and he peeled the bra away from her skin. The moonlight was streaming over them, and she saw him staring appreciatively. It caused her to blush slightly but then he put his good arm around her waist and pulled her against him. The feeling of bare flesh against bare flesh excited her, and when he kissed her again she tried not to tremble. He lowered her to the bed and when he pulled away from her she moved farther back onto the bed. He came back to her and this time kissed her neck instead of her lips. She shut her eyes and tangled her fingers in his hair, arching up slightly the lower he went. When he got to her breasts he moved to one and bit down lightly, and she gasped slightly. He pulled away. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, slightly confused.

“No. No…I liked that,” she said, licking her lips slightly. “It sounds stupid, but I kind of like pain. A little, not too much.”

He grinned at her, one that she categorized as quite seductive. “I’m fond of pain as well, though probably more than you. I will keep that in mind.”

“Oh,” she said as he dipped his head down to her other breast. She had to swallow to suppress the moan that was going to come out. She had imagined this, and sleeping next to this man every night for the last five months had just made it worse. She moved her hands to his shoulders and then down to his back slightly, running her nails along his flesh. She could feel him shudder and he nipped at her skin harder in response.

He moved lower, teasing her as he made his way down her stomach. He only pulled away when he got to the waistband of her trousers, and he reached down and undid the button, then lowered the zipper. She lifted her hips up slightly and he peeled them off of her hips, then pulled them off of her legs, leaving her in just her lace knickers, and then after a moment he pulled those off as well. He looked at her appreciatively. “I’ve often wondered what you would look like if things ever went this far,” he said softly.

“What do you think?” she asked, holding her breath slightly.

“My imagination does a poor job when compared to reality,” he said, and she could feel herself grow warm.

“I’ve wondered what you would look like, too,” she said, sitting up slightly. He took that as the invitation it was and began to take off his trousers and pants. She took in the view, more impressed than she had thought she would be. “You’re…wow.”

He grinned and came back to her, covering her body with his. She pulled him into a deep kiss, running her foot up and down his lower leg slightly as she did. He pressed himself as close as he could get without resting all his weight on her. She let one hand slide down his back, admiring the sleek muscles of his back, and he moved the hand that he wasn’t bracing himself with and ran it along her side. After a few moments he pulled away from her and changed position slightly. She opened her legs wide and he got in front of her, positioning himself. It had been a while for her so she braced herself for his thrust, and when he did it felt like he filled her completely. He stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she said, motioning for him to come closer. He changed his position slightly as he pulled out, getting close enough for her to grip his shoulders, and then thrust into her again. She dug her fingernails into his skin and arched up slightly as he began to get a rhythm going. It wasn’t gentle but it wasn’t so fast and hard that it hurt, and she held on for dear life. She could feel the tension build up inside her and this time she didn’t swallow back to moan. His response was the thrust harder, faster, deeper, and she felt her orgasm spill over. Within moments she felt him come too, and then he slowed down before stopping.

He was sprawled on top of her, kissing her neck slightly, and she ran her hands down his back, her fingertips gliding easily on his sweat soaked skin. He didn’t remove himself from her for a few moments, and then he went and got something for them to clean themselves up with. She moved back to the bed without bothering to get dressed and got under the blankets and sheets, and moments later he joined her, pulling her close against him. She had a smile on her face as she felt his hand trace feather light patterns on her stomach. “If you aren’t careful I may ask for round two,” she said with a chuckle.

“I’m assuming that means you liked round one,” he said softly, his lips near her ear.

“Yes, very much,” she said, nodding just slightly. “It may have been a while, but you definitely knew what you were doing.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he said. “I did as well.”

“This changes things, you know,” she said, sobering slightly.

“Yes, I know,” he replied. “But seeing as how we’re going to continue with this marriage, I don’t think it’s anything we can’t handle together.”

She turned to look at him, reaching up to touch his face. “Do you think you love me, Sherlock?”

He was quiet for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “I’m not entirely sure, but I do know I care for you very much, more than anyone else. I think it’s more than simple caring, which might mean its love. I do know I don’t want to lose you or not have you in my life. If that isn’t love, perhaps I will feel that way in time.”

“That’s good enough for me,” she said with a warm smile before leaning in and kissing him. There was no intense need in this kiss, though it was filled with something she couldn’t quite name. It seemed to be more of a seal to an agreement, a sign that she would take him as he was and love him until her death. When she pulled away she saw in his eyes a look that showed that, perhaps, he saw that kiss as the same thing. She turned again and settled in next to him, shutting her eyes and drifting off to sleep. Everything was going to change now, yes, but she was ready and eagerly awaiting whatever might come.


End file.
